


Oriented is Not a City in Asia

by Dawnwind



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 20:58:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnwind/pseuds/Dawnwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Standard operating procedure: Doyle's concussed and Bodie is giving him aggro.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oriented is Not a City in Asia

Oriented is Not a City in Asia  
By Dawnwind

"What's the air speed velocity of an African Sparrow?" Bodie asked, poking Doyle rudely in the ribs.

"Wha…" The last thing Doyle wanted to think about was damned sparrows, African or otherwise. The question sounded familiar but he wasn't playing on all cylinders. His head hurt! "How the bloody hell should I know? That's not what the nurses would ask." He peered irritably at Bodie and turned his face back to the wall, resting his pounding head on one arm.

"Can't go into hospital just now." Bodie gestured at their subterranean prison with a rueful smile. "Thought I should do the next best thing to keep you awake."

"It's making sure the patient is oriented, you berk!" Doyle retorted. "Not asking…" It came to him at last, Life of Brian. "Misquoting Monty Python."

"Shows you know the answer." Bodie scooted up against the cold stone wall, his face a pale disc in the dim chamber.

"I don't know the answer!" Doyle shouted and his head just throbbed for a moment, silencing them both.

"What's your name?" he asked. "Which is, by the way, a line from the movie as well." 

"Name's Raymond Doyle, we're in a bloody basement and it's my birthday, now will you let me sleep?"

"Have to wake you again in two hours, just the same," Bodie pointed out with aggravating rationality. 

"Do yourself a favour and don't!" Doyle sighed. 

"Can I give you a kiss first?" Bodie put one hand on Doyle's arm, gentle and sweet. "For your birthday—not out of sympathy, concern or any of that twaddle."

"Yeah, all right." Doyle saw Bodie's face come close to his, and he pursed his lips to meet his lover's. It was very, very nice. Didn't do a single bit of good for his lousy head. Damned captors tossing him down the stairwell first, so that he hit his head on flagstones. Bodie'd tumbled after him, and Doyle had broken his fall. "That the extent of your medical training, then? Kissing and making it better?" he asked just to wind up his partner.

"I could go back to quoting Monty Python," Bodie murmured, licking his lips. 

"I'm not dead yet!" Doyle squeaked in a pepper-pot voice and giggled. It hurt his head, but he didn't care. It was either laugh or give in. 

Bodie laughed so hard he snorted. "How long do you reckon we've got before Murphy and that lot get on the road?" he gasped between chuckles.

"Twenty minutes or so?"

"Another kiss, then, since there's no birthday cake." Bodie kissed him, humming, "Always look on the bright side of life…"

"Da-dum," Doyle finished.


End file.
